Page 128 of Spoils of war
How?
“No. I don’t know.” I shook my head.
That’s when I saw it. A small loaf of bread, and a folded bundle of fabric and leather, resting beside me like an offering.
“They’re for you. Since your other ones…” Aran said, glancing away. “Didn’t make it.”
Didn’t make it.
The sky-blue cloak. The soft dress I got from Will. All of it, gone. I hadn’t even realized until then that beneath Will’s cloak, I was bare.
“I think he just bought what he’d wear himself,” Will said.
Aran frowned. “What? It’s practical. Dark colors, strong fabric. Anything else would get ruined out here.”
“Sure,” Will said dryly. “You’re a real trendsetter.”
“Shut up.”
“They’re for me?” I asked. “Where did you get all this?”
“I didn’t go far,” Aran added. “There was a little market by the river. And a small farm.”
Will pulled a cloth-wrapped bundle from the pack and handed it to me. “Bread. And he picked up something sweet too, I think. Some kind of berry thing.”
I stared down at the bundle in my lap, unsure if I could even make myself unwrap it.
“You didn’t have to—”
“I know,” Aran said, cutting me off gently. “I wanted to.”
He leaned back, arms behind his head. “And we may or may not have spent too much gold on gear. Weapons. Food. But hey. Now we’re armed. And fed. You’re welcome.”
“Of course you did.” I said.
He’d gone while I was unconscious. While I was curled up in Will’s coat, shaking from the inside out. While I was fighting for my life. And he’d thought of me.
I lifted the bundle of fabric, letting the light catch the fabric. The clothes were nothing like mine—brown and black, rough leather and wool, a hooded cloak, trousers instead of skirts, a belt to hold everything together.
“If you’d both leave the room,” I said quietly.
Aran hesitated, then nodded. Will followed him out.
There was a gaping hole in the wall, but I didn’t even think about it. They’d already seen me at my worst—burned, broken, naked. If either of them had wanted to hurt me, they’d had every chance. Instead, they carried me here. Fed me. Wrapped me in warmth I didn’t think I’d ever feel again.
Maybe I was foolish to trust them. But how could I not?
Will, who I trusted with my life. And Aran, who kept trying to earn forgiveness for something that couldn’t be undone.
I stepped outside, the breeze touched my face, light as a feather. I almost cried.
It was real.
The world hadn’t ended.
I sat by the fire Aran had coaxed to life, the faint crackle filling the silence between us. It burned low, fed more for warmth than comfort, its glow painting his face in gold and shadow.
“See? Looks great!” Aran said when he noticed me. His grin was crooked, proud in that way he always was when he thought he’d done something useful.
